Elsie's here to read the meter. Or something. City Hall is, after all, City Hall, and so in her quest to get some radio capabilities up and about, dedicated to the lawmen of the federation, it seems like a reasonable place to stop. All the towns and cities in the Federation have the capabilities, so it seems natural the El Dorado ones would be run through here. Right? Right?

The slightly-familiar looking redhead has been looking for someone to answer just such a question. She wears a pinstripe black-and-white skirt with a long-sleeve white blouse that has a high Mandarin collar and a low v-neck. Her black combat chest piece doubles as a corset, and she often sports a brown belt with matching holster. Black boots cover her feet.

It's been a long time since she was here, and when she was here it was with a different face, a different name. But now everyone knows that Surelda is dead, and the daughter of Jared Solomon besides. So it's safe to come back ... right? "Hello? Anyone here?"

Luce is leaning back at her desk, reading over a few parcels and trying to decipher the scrawl on a particular article. Her shades and goggles are up on her helmet. She raises a hand to notify of her presence, "Just me for now." she answers. It's another average day.

"Oh," Elsie responds. It's an involuntary sound that seems to indicate familiarity. But then it's covered by a quick shake of the head. "I'm sorry; I haven't found anyone yet to talk to, was a bit startled. You work here, ma'am? I'm Elsie Bell, ma'am, recently of the Sheriff's department. I'm workin' on their comms, their communications. I was wondering if the overall El Dorado comms were run out of here, or if someone here knew who runs and manages them." At least she steps a bit deeper into the room, looking around. What a strange, different, faraway time that ll seems to be, now...

Luce looks up from her reading to set it on the desk. "Always nice to see someone helping the city." she chimes with a small nod. "Anything beyond written communique is done elsewhere. I just handle parcels and letters, rare I wind up having to do local deliveries unless it's something shady." she answers. "Every couple days I set out to other settlements and towns to try and deliver and receive anything might be coming this way, what more'd you expect from a courier."

Elsie wrinkles her nose under her big, hazel eyes. "Hmmm, that so? I suppose I'll go asking at the radio station near to Shanty town. Jack's, you know? I just always assumed that was a private radio station, not really used for official business. But maybe it is and I just never realized." She offers the woman a broad, white-toothed smile. "Hope my dropping in and bothering you hasn't been ... well, a bother."

Lucette shakes her head. "Not a bother at all. And the radio's worth a shot investigating. Don't get too many orders from the Militia or the like so I haven't really been too connected to the radio system." she relays. "Where you from? Fancy suit and red hair, can't say I've seen you around before. You don't seem the legion type, so I'm guessing out west."

"Oh, not Legion!" Elsie actually laughs at that thought. An addict like her would as soon put a gun in her mouth as go to Rome. The result would basically be the same. "No, I've been around El Dorado for a few years. I just ... suppose I'm quiet, keep to myself. But the Marshal offered me a job and since I don't really have a great way to make a living for myself, well, I took him up on it." Perhaps she does look a touch familiar. Just a touch.

"Do you think you might benefit from being closer tied into the radios, here?"

Lucette hums. "Not sure, radio chatter means most of my time prepping and sorting also goes into waiting for a broadcast unless someone else was manning that." she thinks aloud. "Doubt you're asking for that position. Guess I could go around lookin' for help or the like." familiar is a common occurance for luce.. you don't travel from west coast to east and not notice a lot of people have similar faces.

"Oh, of course. Nah, it's important to have a radio manned and then messages can be passed along. When I was workin'....." Elsie pauses for a moment, though her eyes never leave Lucette's, "... before I came to El Dorado, years back now, mind. But we had a few of us who'd sit on the local radio and man it for any incoming transmissions, or send out the necessary outgoing ones. That's what I'm hoping to set up for the law, here." Figure if they can keep track of Mutants to the south, Enclave to the West, and everything in between, we'd be in good shape, yanno?"

Luce nods affirmatively. The eye contact warrants a raised brow. "Should be fine keeping track of everything. Definately see where you're coming from. Either put our focus where it's needed or send people to reinforce, always nice to know everything steady. Good head on you, know how to use'm, hope you can fix'm too." she muses with amusement.

YAY PRAISE! Lucette may not know it, but Elsie's life has been short on praise for its entirety. So when the woman praises her? Elsie blushes with pride. "Aw, ma'am. That's very kind of you to say." THat's the external reaction, but the internal one? That's all jumping jacks. "May I ask, ma'am, what it is you do around here? Might be a way that what I'm setting up can be of direct help to you'n yours."

Luce waves her hand. "I'm a courier, member of the Guardians." she answers. "Doctor as well, but the clinic's got most people taken care of. Also make clothes and work with leather, have a history of helping El Dorado and some nearby settlements."

Doctor. Elsie remembers that. But of course, she can't say that. "A woman who does all things. Well, perhaps the radio might be helpful for you after all." The redhead tips her face downward slightly in a gesture of respect. "Once I find out about the radio tower, ma'am, I'll coem let you know if you'd be interested."

The name Richardson doesn't mean ANYTHING to Elsie. Nope, not anything at all. Perhaps she just looks a touch pale in this particular light, and perhaps her eyes are just always that wide, but she was squinting slightly from having come in from outside. All of these are perfectly plausible explanations for her current look. "Yes ma'am, Miss Richardson." Is this how it feels from the outside to stand near someone with an infamous family relation. Yikes. "I'll leave you to your day, but will let come by and hollar for you, surely, when I've something to hollar about."

Luce smiles warmly and tilts her head, "If you need any help don't afraid to stop by either. I can try my hand at about anything. Some things are better than others, mind." she says with another giggle. "Not many people reply to my name that way. I hope my kinfolk haven't caused you as much trouble as they have me. I don't have any sway with them, and their current boss has me on the bad list. It's hard to get put there."

Elsie continues to smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes. For a girl who has survived as long as she has on telling lies, she's sucking today. Perhaps that's because that's how she also made her living, some time ago. Maybe the two go hand in hand. WHO KNOWS BUT ELSIE IS FAIRLY TRANSPARENT TODAY.

Luce nods. "Alright. Next time you should let your attending physician know if you've undergone any serious proceedures, and if yer on any new chems." she comments with amusement. "Glad to see yer actually fairing well. If you have doubts about my character, locals will be glad to inform you that I pull my weight and do my part. Next time I hope we can be a bit more social and civil. And if yer put in a corner and yer not -against- the city, I'll do what I can to back you up. Or atleast help you slip away." offering a wave. "Have a good one."

Elsie-turned-Surelda pauses at the doorway, blinking widely at Lucette and hearing her words. Did she mean what she thinks she means? She must. But .... well surely she must. The redhead flushes deeper, glances down, and nods. "Ma'am," she says by way of farewell before she's quickly slipping away.

Great. The one Enclave relative in town now knows that Surelda Solomon isn't dead. That's not good.